1911-1912.] A Mid' Lothian Burn, 399 



of which we must not forget to mention. On this very spot, 

 on 24th April 1567, Queen Mary of Scots was seized, on her 

 way from Stirling to Edinburgh, by a troop of 800 spears, 

 commanded by Lord Bothwell. They surrounded her attend- 

 ants, and taking possession by force of the Queen's person, 

 hurried her off to Dunbar. Twenty-one days later she was 

 married to Bothwell in the Chapel Eoyal at Holyrood, at the 

 singular hour of four in the morning. 



To return to our burn, whose individual life is nearly at an 

 end. For the last half-mile or so its channel is cut through a 

 deposit, the sandy nature of which points to the work of a 

 river of much wider extent than the Almond of our day, with 

 whose waters it is about to unite. Far removed from the 

 haunts of the aggressive grey rat, the water-vole is here in its 

 element. For long we stand and watch one of these timid 

 creatures assiduously nibbling the grass, and only staying its 

 meal to listen as we seek to try the effect of the human voice. 

 Anon the call of the water-hen proclaims the presence of 

 one of these birds, and soon with jerky motion it rounds the 

 bend, a visitor from yon willow-lined backwater a field away. 



The glare of the golden sunshine and the long shadows cast 

 on the fields call to hasten if we are to reach and photograph 

 the mouth of the burn to-night. We have a long detour 

 to make, and involuntarily we think of the past. We recall 

 impressions, and, while joking over some experiences, there is 

 an undercurrent of regret that our work is nearing an end. 

 With it all there is a strange uplifting at having made an 

 attempt to accomplish that which we had set before us. 

 Whether it has proved a success or not seems a small matter, 

 in view of the fact that we have delightful memories of our 

 work of which no one can rob us. They are ours, and no one 

 can take them away. 



On the other side and between the break in the banks 

 flows out the water with which we have companied so long. 

 From this place we look towards the hills, faintly seen 

 through the all-pervading blue atmosphere, and almost con- 

 vince ourselves that yonder is Corston Hill, from which our 

 burn springs. We have passed through the lands of many 

 proprietors since that day when we first saw the birth- 



